


tell me what your other senses see

by empty_throne



Series: Scent of Blood [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Talking During Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empty_throne/pseuds/empty_throne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Expansion of the first "five twists of the soul" drabble. Claire learns to pay attention to what she <i>can't</i> see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me what your other senses see

"We're such visual creatures," Matt says. "Humans are. We focus so much attention on what we can _see_. But sex--sex is about all of the senses. Sight can be a distraction."

Claire can't help but smile. "So that's why you're so good of a lover? Because you aren't distracted by the sight of a naked woman?"

A grin breaks across his features. It always feels like a victory when she manages that, when she gets an _actual_ grin from him, rather than the thing that covers up for bitterness or pain. "Sure, why not? Or maybe it's just practice."

They don't talk about it any more that night, but it comes up again a few weeks later, when Matt stops by and for once isn't bleeding, although he's bruised something fierce. And he suggests she try it for herself. "Close your eyes, Claire. Tell me what your other senses see."

She puts her hands on his face. "Stubble. Do you do that for the aesthetics of it, or do people expect that blind guys have a hard time shaving?"

The smile manifests as a shift in the muscles of his face, breath ghosting across the heels of her hands. "Aesthetics. Does it work?"

"It looks better than it feels." Her fingers move onward. "Your hairline is nice and soft, though." Over his scalp, down his neck. When she reaches his body, she hesitates.

"Keep talking," Matt says.

"Muscle," she says. "Hard, but the skin over it is soft--except where you have scars." They are thick and smooth under her fingers, ropy where they didn't heal well. But the skin moves over them. He must have massaged those areas, despite the pain, to keep things from binding up and restricting his movement. "The bones are different. From when I see them, I mean. They're unexpected." Rigid points at the elbows, at the knob of his wrist. "Man, I see what you mean about people letting sight distract them. Anybody who really _studied_ your hands would know you aren't just a lawyer." They're tough hands, wiry, the tendons standing out strong, and calloused over the knuckles, from striking so many targets. He wears gloves, of course, but they only protect so much.

Matt's voice is breath on her ear. "Not just texture. What else?"

Heat. Cool along his arms, but warm on the palms of his hands, warm as her own hands drop farther. She whispers this, then adds, "Dampness, too. Sweat, evaporating in the air." She pushes his chest with one hand until he lies back, and wraps her mouth around him.

When she comes up for air, she says, "Salt. Sweat and semen--they're different, but similar. And I can taste my soap on you." It's a good thing he showered before they got into bed. A bit of sweat is one thing, but the residue of a fight is something else.

She crawls up his body until she can kiss his lips, feeling a crust scrape against her own mouth. "Copper. Blood. And ... mint gum, I think."

He grins against her mouth, and she's glad she stayed close, so she can feel the shift. "Now let me tell you what I hear."

Eyes still closed, she lies down alongside him. He strokes the backs of his fingers down her side. "I hear your heartbeat," Matt says. "It's been quick since we got into bed, but it just got quicker when I said that. And now it's quicker still."

Because it's weirdly intimate, hearing him describe her own heartbeat to her. But not in a bad way.

"You just drew breath as if you were going to say something, but then you changed your mind. And now you've stopped entirely--I'm betting you're biting your lip, trying not to smile."

She shakes her head, letting out the air she'd held in. "You're magic. Tell me more."

She spreads her legs, inviting his hand. He teases her by withholding it, for now. "I can hear my hand on your skin. You're tensing up--"

"Because you're toying with me now, Murdock," she says, mock-annoyed. "And you're feeling that tension, not hearing it. You promised to tell me what you h--"

The rest of the word turns into a gasp, because he slides his fingers into her in one swift movement. "That sounds different," he murmurs, and she can _hear_ his wicked grin. "Wet instead of dry. There's a faint sucking noise each time I draw my fingers out. And I can hear your hips shifting against the sheets."

She's lifting her pelvis to meet him, matching the slow, maddening thrusts of his hand. His voice washes over her, counterpoint to her heart. "Your breathing is the best part," he says. "I listen to that the most. The way it roughens, because your throat is tightening up with pleasure. The moments when it catches--that's when I know I've done something especially good. Like this, right now. You make little noises in the back of your throat, too soft to really call them moans, but they're even better, because they're not deliberate. The pitch rises as you go, and then they get muffled because you've closed your mouth, and now I know you're close. And when you come--"

Her back arches, and her breath comes out in a shuddering stream. Her pulse is loud enough that _she_ can hear it, pounding in her ears. Then it fades, and she hears the sound of Matt moving up to lie alongside her once more, laying a stubble-rough kiss against her lips. "That," he says, "is the best sound I've heard all day."


End file.
